Shouldn't Feel This Way
by a-brunette-rapunzel
Summary: A series of drabbles for a look into Chris's mind as he endures the airless attic with Cathy.
1. Chapter 1

_Author Note: Flowers In The Attic came into my life exactly one year ago this month and since then it's been my favourite book series ever. I've been aware of the stories for the books on here but none have been updated or published in a long time, so I wanted to treat some of you with this little drabble. If there's good feedback, I'm thinking of writing more of Chris's thoughts for this story. Hope you enjoy._

Time ran on. It didn't stop. And neither did she. My little sister danced across the dusty floors of the attic, building, building, building... dancing until her legs ached. Even then, she persisted on. Her goals and dreams ahead of her. I propped up my elbow and rested my chin on my hand and watched her. How long had she been right in front of my eyes and I hadn't a care in the world? She was taller, her long blonde hair swayed and swung as she danced to the music, as she turned to face me, I gazed at the swollen bumps on her chest, no longer flat, but widened, perked. Somewhere in me, I twitched as my gaze fell further down. The narrowness of her waist, and then the way her hips flared out and ran down to her dancer legs. She was spinning again, avoiding my gaze, but with every turn, leap and pirroute. My desire for the beautiful doll became desperate. I gulped a little, seeing her stretch and holding her posture, her dainty little feet so strong. I was frightened. She was too beautiful to break, too special...

My hormones raged but then I felt my heart swell, I felt my inner most love swell for the golden haired beauty in front of me.

I was in love with my Catherine Doll and I really shouldn't be. I didn't want to stare for too long and get her worried, I pretended to be the observer, pretend to watch the way she danced, when I wasn't really doing that. When the music came to a halt, she shared a smile with me and bent down to readjust something. My breath came in an almighty gust of air, it couldn't be possible for someone to be so stunningly gorgeous, how had I overlooked her this whole time? A year ago, she was flatter, more slender, her curves hadn't blossomed yet and my thoughts were still pure.

But as the music came back on again and my Catherine started to move across the attic, all I wanted to do was dance _with_ her. To feel her in my arms and press her against my chest, to cradle her waist and to lean down and capture her lips to mine. Hopefully, she'd respond and we'd sink onto the floor and express our love for each other.

My hope thinned and shredded more and more as the reminder hit me of the two twins downstairs, and the fact that Catherine was my sister, for the thoughts I had were wholesome but not pure.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Hi guys! Thank you all so much for the kind reviews, they mean more to me more than you'll know. So this will be a super short story and yes, I'm planning to write more after this. This is the scene where Chris has sex with Cathy and I hope you like it. Let me know what you think._

My heart fell into my stomach as the words echoed through my mind. Cathy had _kissed_ Momma's husband? I felt sick. The sudden realisation of almost being caught brought me out of my shock as I rushed back upstairs. I padded along the long corridor up the spiral staircase and sneaked into the attic. Once the door was closed behind me, I leaned against it, shutting my eyes tightly. _Damn you Cathy. Damn you to hell. Not only are you gonna get us in trouble but you betrayed me... I thought we..._ I banged my head against the door, angrily looking over to the bed Cathy slept in. The covers were rolled back and the pillow had been squashed a little. Peeking into the bathroom, I prepared myself for, for, _for..._ I gulped. My rage burned within me and then it clicked. Walking by the twins who were sound asleep, I thudded upstairs to the attic. She wanted to rush things, fine that was how it would be. I'd show her, she was mine. _She was mine._ No other man would ever make her feel the way I do, she would never find someone like me. I'd have her, oh God, I'd wanted this to be easier, nicer, but all I could think of was her lips pressed against another man's. Jealousy rushed through me. I had to have her.

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><p>This side of me even surprised me. I had no idea what had possessed me to hurt her. I didn't want to hurt her. I only wanted to please her and to love her.<p>

"You're mine, Cathy, you'll always be mine. No matter who comes into your future, you'll always belong to me! I'll make you mine... tonight... now!" The words poured out my mouth, fuelled by the indecent torment I was suffering. Oh Lady Catherine, I love you, God how I love you. But you were being inconsiderate, so stupid, so, so, so like Momma!

Pushing her down on the mattress, she tried to fight me off, her hands flew to my chest, beating at me. She tried to use her legs to shove me off. I didn't relent. As I used my weight to lie her back, I caught a glimpse of contentment once we were on top of each other. It was sweet agony being this close to her. Our naked bodies stuck together like glue, moulded so perfectly that no distraction could ever break me away from her. And then I took her. I forced myself in her, I felt every little piece of her, I felt her insides expand to my side, the tightness and heat of her involuntary made me groan. Sweet, sweet, agony. I had made her impure, I had made my mark, she was addicting, so tempting...

I shoved myself further in, tears starting to persist in my eyes. She seemed off in a daze, her arms fell apart as my own, wrapped around her body, my hands tangled at the ends of her hair. _Oh Cathy, next time, this will be better. I only wanted to make you feel good._ I felt myself grow close to my peak, I tried to hold Cathy's eye contact, to share this disgusting yet beautiful moment with her but when I let out my desired release, I rolled away from her. Her hands shook as her mouth fell open, tears streaked her cheeks. No one would ever know how much I wanted her to release too, but I had attacked her. _Raped_ her. Raped the only person I truly loved. The attic had turned me into a monster.

_Oh God, what had I done. Cathy, I am sorry. Please forgive me, now I'll lose you forever. I don't want that. I just want you. _


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: After originally crafting this story as a one shot, I'm not realising I want to write more about their time in the attic. So, I guess this will be a little mixture of everything – it won't be in order, given the previous chapter was when Chris finally had sex with Cathy _**BUT** _it will show you the stages of Chris's growing love for Cathy._

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><p>The scream that woke me up shall stay with me forever. I shot up at the sound of Cathy's distressed moans and sobbing, for some reason, it sent a thrill inside me until I was fully awake – there sat my beautiful doll, with the beautiful hair that I so dearly loved covered in something other than blonde hair. She stared at me repulsed as I scurried to her side, grabbing her hand gently as I inspected her locks. I could feel that sticky liquid and know what it was, anywhere. Tar. <em>No, No, No... not my beautiful doll, not tar.<em>

The thought of cutting her hair made me feel sick. It was Cathy's trademark, a piece of her I could touch subconsciously without it having to be wrong. Something automatically, a loved one would let you touch. But tar? It was almost impossible to get out! Ordering Cathy to sit in the bathtub while I ransacked some trunks, through the piles of medical books I had, flipping them open and searching for the one thing not included – it made me so frustrated. I grabbed every chemical I could possibly, testing them on Cathy viciously as I tried to scrub out the awful dye. Nothing worked. Nothing, nothing, nothing. I didn't know how long it took as I fished around her hair, trying to remove it, hours could've gone by now. It didn't matter, tears flew down her face as I gestured toward the scissors and stared at her with pleading eyes.

My heart ached for Catherine, God knows I would take her position now instead of letting her endure this experience. That, that Grandmother... _she had done this. Wrecked my poor Cathy's luscious hair because she was jealous. Yes, jealous of Cathy's beautiful body, her beautiful hair, her beautiful soul... I would've knocked her out, screamed at her if she was here. I would rather be beaten down on the back with that whip she so often used, anything but Cathy's hair. The one precious thing I treasured._

As I snipped her locks short, I gritted my teeth, her hair was no longer soft and smooth but brittle and harsh. Her hair would've been damaged, even if the tar did come out, it would've ruined the texture. I was forced to cut it to her scalp, as short as mine. It would grow, it would grow of course.

Then, it was done. Finally, I watched her climb out the bath and stare at herself in the mirror. My arms ached at the tireless hours we had apparently spent trying to get rid of the tar when we should've cut her precious locks in the first place. A scowl plastered her face. I gulped, so nervous for her reaction, though, did any young girl want to see their long hair they had religiously looked after cut to maximum length tragically? I wouldn't know. All I knew was Catherine. Then she was in my arms, the rest could've been a blur. She asked me if she was pretty, I couldn't tell her what I thought. I was her brother. It was wrong to feel anything like desire for my younger sister. As I stared down at her and pressed my lips to her head, she was still so beautiful. Bald or not, she had her ballet, her new figure, her gorgeous face, her kind and good heart – the Grandmother could never take that away. She would never put her hands on her again, I swore that to myself, as long as I was here, I would protect my Catherine Doll and our twins. That was a promise.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I'm not sure on how many chapters will be after this but the response is making me write more than intended, so if you're reading, please continue to do so. There's nothing better than receiving feedback about a story you've put hard work into. For any author out there, I know they feel the same._

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><p>I pounded downstairs from the attic, searching for Cathy. It was lunchtime and she had been gone for longer than intended.<p>

"Cathy?" I called quietly, making my way down. As I landed on the last step, I opened the door ajar and poked my head around the door. For as long as I shall live, I'd never forget this moment.

There she was.

Standing at the medicine cabinet mirror door.

In ballet positions.

_Unclothed._

She gazed at herself admiringly as I gazed at her too, my breaths came out in short puffs as I studied her new body. This wasn't my Catherine Doll. Not the naïve twelve year old pest sister that I had lived with for a long time – but my wife. My Cathy had developed curves. The kind we had talked about that Christmas Eve while watching Momma. Her breasts were small but generous, her waist dipped and thinned inwards, her hips were wide and ballooning and her legs shapely and toned.

_Good Lord... give me strength. _

She whipped around suddenly and looked embarassed. A pink colour rosed her cheeks as I continued to stare. Somehow, before, I would've stopped and turned around, for I had stared at Cathy's body before. We had been naked together before but not like this, she was older, almost renewed. This was the kind of figure that attracted and lured any man, and it was surely working on me. Thoughts rushed through my head, thoughts I sworn to the Grandmother that I would never feel or think but Good God, it felt right.

"Chris please go away." She murmured after a while. _No Catherine Doll. I will not walk away and pretend to treat you like a Sister. You are much more than that, to me you're everything. Don't tell me to go away when we could have so much.. be so much._

From the way the mirror was positioned, I caught sight of her from the front, it was even more beautiful. _She_ was beautiful. And she was _mine_, _only_ mine.

Cathy moved toward the bed and grabbed her dress.

"Don't." I told her, a smile creeping on my lips.

"You shouldn't..." She trembled.

I gulped and felt the lump in my throat, "I know I shouldn't, but you look so beautiful. It's like I never saw you before. How did you grow so lovely when I was here all the time?" The words flooded out of my mouth, all my deepest desire for Cathy coming out in waves that I had bottled for far too long. She didn't answer and I worried. The last thing I wanted was for her to be upset with me and blush and hate me. Couldn't she see what we had between us? Didn't she feel the same? Sometimes she gave me strange feelings at night – a throbbing sensation and then a gush of warm love, she was my responsibility. I didn't think of her as my younger sister at all anymore.

That's when I heard the key in the door lock. My heart thudded violently for Cathy, I wanted to quickly hide her but the view of her, just then, I was still haunted, still wanting... then the Grandmother entered the room. A pained look of horror struck her face and I really didn't care at all.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Well here's the next part. Can I clarify something? Those of you who are asking for Cathy's POV; read the book. I'm taking this from the book, not the new Lifetime remake of it. Cathy's thoughts are in all of the books apart from book 3 so this is just for book 1 with Chris's thoughts. Sorry for any confusion. Thanks for the further support._

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><p>As punishment for being improper toward each other, the Grandmother had whipped us. I couldn't describe it at all, it was humiliating, being stark naked and having a whip cracked across your back, tearing your skin apart and releasing blood. I flicked my eyes over to Cathy, she was curled tight in a ball, shielding her femininity and her eyes were squeezed shut. The lump from earlier rose up again and my eyes watered at the sight of my Catherine in pain, she was sniffling and stifling back sobs at the pain.<p>

_Goddamn you Grandmother! This is abuse! Cruel abuse and I'll never forgive you._

I heard Cathy screaming something at the Grandmother, we were in too much pain to really listen. I drifted off like Cathy had done, she seemed to be in a different place. I imagined myself in my library, scanning books and writing down information, my eyes gleaming at the medical magic that could save lives. This was brutal torture, being so vulnerable and being punished for something that was entirely my fault. Resent filled me as I felt the whip finally surrendering. Then I heard the door squeak and shut behind us. Cathy was still curled tight in a ball, silent as ever. Reaching for antiseptic and other creams and plasters, I knelt over Cathy and hovered above her. I applied my medical applications onto her bloody and scarred back. That creamy skinned back that was so unmarked and tender with the flesh that lay there was now tattered with cuts and red lashes. Tears fell onto her back from my own eyes, it trickled down and she was still so silent.

_Cathy, I'm so sorry. I hate her, her for doing this to my beautiful Lady Catherine, You didn't deserve it. God knows I'd take the amount of your share of whippings and mine together and bear them myself. But not you, please not the only thing I love more than myself._

Once she was done, she welted my own back, with the same loving touch and tender carressing, I sighed in relief. _We'd survive. We'd be okay. I knew we would._ We sat on your sides, turned to face one another under the thin white sheet. Our eyes held each other's gaze and my heart filled with warmth for the Ballerina in front of me.

_If she keeps looking at me this way, I'm going to have to kiss her, and kissing means suffering the same punishment twice._

She teased me with a sing song to lighten the mood but I sulked and got to my feet and walked over to the window. "Stop! It was my fault, she didn't have to hurt you too."

"It doesn't matter. Sooner or later, she would do it. From the very first day, she planned to punish us for some trifling reason. I just marvel that she held back for so long in using that whip."

Turning to face her once again, I strided close to her, looking down into her beautiful doll-like face with the diamond blue eyes, the small sloped nose and pouty swollen red lips. "When she was lashing me, I heard you screaming—and I didn't have to. You did it for me, Cathy, and it helped; I didn't feel any pain but yours."

Now with my arms wrapped around her small petite frame, our bare bodies pressed together and her breasts flattened against my chest. "Cathy, Cathy.." I murmured, I then cupped her head and brought her lips to mine." _It's too late to back away now. Please don't be scared, just feel the love I have for you. Oh God, how I love you. _ Then our lips were pressed together and electricity radiated off us. It felt right and wholesome. Her lips moulded perfectly with mine and as I deepened the kiss, wanting more of all that was Cathy, she whispered to me to stop. My growing arousal settled on her leg and I didn't feel ashamed. Not one bit.

"This is just what she thought we did." She smiled. I scowled in disgust, rolling my eyes and bitterly laughed. "What's an innocent kiss? Lovers do a lot more than just having their mouths pressed together as one. We haven't done more than that, we shouldn't feel bad."

"And never will." She weakly said, sighing and walking away. I froze a little, staring down at the tiled floor of the bathroom.

_Someday we'd escape the attic. Someday we wouldn't have any wicked Grandmother to punish us and condemn us for being human. What did she expect? Being locked away during our most important years of growing up, wanting and desiring something from the opposite sex. How could I fight off the one person who had captured my heart by the pattern of her footsteps when she danced across the dusty floors of the attic? How did I fight off the one person I'd ever felt true romantic feelings for. It was more than a sexual one, it was the need of having Cathy in my life so much that if I didn't—I'd regret it and be miserable forever. We had endured so much, with the twins and with ourselves and the doubt of Momma never returning became more realistic and harder to deny. We only had each other. But the feeling wasn't mutual, I didn't know what to think. Was I the replica of my father for loving someone who shared the same blood as he? Was I the devil's spawn like the Grandmother had recited every day so we'd never forget? I didn't know, didn't know._


	6. Chapter 6

We were leaving. Any day. As soon as I got the damned money and fished around Momma's swan bedroom. I took Cathy's hand and drew her close to my side as we snuck through the elaborate room; our eyes caught the magnificent Swan shaped bed that Cathy was so fascinated by. When we'd escaped and vanish from the depths of Hell that we were promised a fortune of, I'd buy Cathy an even more Grand bed, something that topped Momma's bedroom that she so envied. Pay for all the years of luxury and desire we'd been deprived of. For I only wanted Cathy happy and the twins, that's what meant the most to me. Hurrying into the bedroom, I flung open drawers, wardrobes, checked under the bed and muttered, if I was loose change, where would I be hiding? During my exploration, Cathy's presence drifted off into Momma's side, I could hear her humming a little tune and the sound hangers clanking together. I was busy rattling through another endless drawer when I heard the small teeter totter of heels hitting the ground—Oh No! Momma!

"How do I look?" But it was only Cathy. Sighing in relief, I placed back things I had taken out of the drawer and glanced over at her! Oh Good Lord! What had she done to herself? Cathy stood smiling and looking overconfident as she swayed in heels that seemed too big for her, her face looked plastered in Momma's mutiple blushes, eyeshadows and her shiny red lipstick that would leave smears on our cheeks when she kissed us. Cathy looked like a Clown at a Circus! I snorted and scowled at her in disgust, a woman who looked like that would definitely not on any circumstance appeal to me, besides, Cathy was a natural beauty and no one could deny that.

"How do you look? Let me tell you precisely. You look like a street-walker—that's how." I didn't want to hurt her, my bitter words were uncontrollable though and she did look like a tramp. "An adolescent whore—that's what! Now go wash your face and put back all that stuff where you found it, and clean up the dressing table."

Obediently, she faced one of Momma's mirror as I continued my search, thank God she wasn't looking my way, my cheeks were scalding hot and probably red. Seeing Cathy in such a manner shocked me. Cathy shouldn't degrade herself for any less than she was, she was a natural stunning beauty, an intelligent, fiesty young talented woman and dolling herself up like women who had zero respect for themselves was unnecessary. Though, I longed to see my Catherine Doll dressed like Momma, to call her mine and hold those voluptuous curves she had inherited almost miraculously. Feeling embarrassed with my thoughts, I smacked the drawers shut. "Hurry up Cathy!" I called into the bathroom, "leave that stuff alone and come help me search."

"Chris I'd love to take a bath in her black marble tub."

"God almighty, we don't have time for you to do that."

I left her to it and again resumed to hike under objects or furniture that I hadn't looked at yet. Why was the money so damned hard to find these days? Did Momma's new husband suspect that there were two attic mice stealing their change, or possibly servants? Cursing under my breath, I finally spotted a few pennies as I gathered them in my hands, some fives and a few pennies. "Cathy, jackpot! I found some fives and some pennies, that should add some to our current total. We'll come back for more though, we can't steal too much, they'll know! We need to be sneaky."

She didn't answer and had her back faced to me, I looked puzzled at her, "Cathy what's the matter? Are you deaf? Come on?"

Still, she didn't budge. Almost impatiently, I scurried over and looked over her shoulder. _Sweet Baby Jesus._

Cathy held a book in her hands, a book full of images and text under them. Pictures you couldn't explain to anyone about, for they were self explanatory. Women and men were sprawled out over each other, their faces contoured in blissful and erotic expressions, Cathy flicked the pages as I sucked in my breath, so many passionate positions that these people were in, so many ways to experience that forbidden pleasure with the one you love; so much that I wanted to give to one person who I didn't dare mention. The text explained what they were, curiously I took it all in, dazed with shock and almost captivity and Cathy flashed me a look. Shutting the book, I was still frozen but Cathy took the book away and retrieved it. Then I took her hand automatically as we stole up that winding staircase. We headed back to the attic, to the place where we were doomed and sheltered, to the place I could have Cathy all for myself and not feel ashamed.

Once we were back, I told Cathy she could use the bath first, I avoided her gaze and I noticed she was worried. Heaving a frustrated sigh, I looked over at the twins, for how innocent and naïve minded they were, so trusting in us, so ignorant to adult desires that sizzled and lingered your mind for what seemed like forever.

For once, I hated the Grandmother. I resented Momma. It was their fault I felt this way, they kept us away from other people our age, people we should be interacting with, I had to settle and make do with what I had. Minutes passed until we were both in bed, Cathy wasn't facing me but I glowered in the darkness, watching her long golden hair fanning out around her pillow, the shape of her lips puckered up, and slowly, slowly, slowly, she met my gaze. I could break it off and glance away but I couldn't. Could she read what I was thinking? _God how I love you._ I wanted to scream. After seeing those pictures, the desperation to have Cathy more than she legally was, tormented me. My heart skipped a beat as her gaze softened, I stared back, would I scare her off? I was so tempted to kiss her, climb into bed with her, roll on top of her and make her moan out in the same way those texts described. Erotica, satisfaction,_ love._ _This is wrong. So wrong. But I need her, I want her, I __**love **__her. Please forgive me God._

"Are you alright?" I asked her quietly, trying to disguise the pettiness in my voice.

"Yes, I'm surviving." Then she said goodnight, in a voice I couldn't distinguish; not of the sister I had grown up with, but a lover, starved of romance and the same pleasure that lovers experienced.

"Good night." I duplicated in the same tone, rolling away, tears sparked my eyes. We were doomed. She feels the same. I knew it.

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><p><em>AN: Thank you so much for the lovely reviews and nice words! They mean so much to me and keep me going. I want you all to know that this story has been an amazing experience so far, I'm planning on expanding it and making the next chapter about the starvation, we might now get to see Chris's own trauma whilst trying to stay sane for his family of three. Reviews are very much appreciated :)_


	7. Chapter 7

The weeks droned on. We did nothing day in and day out. That didn't include racing up the attic, playing with toys, reading books and trying to fill the lonely, void days with humour and fun; we tried to make it as eventful for the twins as possible. I laughed at the way Cathy would roll her eyes and try to shush the twins when they screamed their heads off, whining to go outside and I did my best to comfort them. For, it would only be a few more days at least until Momma came upstairs, with a bright beaming smile and tears would glisten in her eyes as she told us we were finally free. I hungered that day. Cathy would be reading and I'd pretend to be invested in my own book, but I dreamt. Oh how I dreamed. I thought of that grand hallway downstairs, of how we'd be at every celebration in Foxworth Hall, filling our now only half-full stomachs with luxurious food, the best of the best, topped with a sip of champagne and other festive drinks. We'd dance the whole night through, despite my lack of talent with that. Young ladies from the area would shyly blush but oblige if I mastered my way of asking one to dance. I'd do it for Cathy. I propped myself up and stared at her; her golden hair fell in her eyes and her pouty red lips were apart as her eyes hovered around the page, she seemed to be so involved in what ever she was reading. So like Momma, in every way. We had only been here a short while, four weeks to be exact, Momma rarely came to visit us these days but I knew she was doing her very best and trying to make a good attempt at winning back her father's respect, trust and love. In those four weeks, my sister became my friend, we seldom bickered but I'd tease her with anything she said or did. I still did but it was mutual this time, we had two five year olds to look after, we were closer than ever. She was pretty, Cathy. She resembled a porcelain doll. She was twelve years old and didn't look awkward at all. I knew deep down her blossoming would come in a few years, I guessed she might be as beautiful as Momma, or even more. Whoever had the chance to date her in the future would be a lucky fella indeed. With my approval of course, which I knew she'd be embarrassed about. But I'd do it to tease her. My little sister deserved the best, these four weeks wouldn't matter at all. Would make no difference to what was to come.

I noticed I had taken changes, I was fourteen and didn't even have much to shave off yet. Peach fuzz was slight and my height would probably shoot right up in the next year, according to all the Biology books I'd been reading. I discovered a lot. Even about girls. My gaze fleeted back to Cathy who was now biting her lower lip as she continued to read. I knew all about what would happen to Cathy. Women changes that I'm sure she was oblivious to. The next time Momma would appear, I'd have to remind her to speak to Cathy about her monthly's and her growing spurts—-but Momma would probably know herself. She had been an adolescent once too. And then the twins, I sighed and felt sorrow for my young brother and sister. For they craved the sunshine beating down onto them, the will to run freely until dark during the Summer days, the chance to breathe in the lovely fresh air that the world had to offer. This for them felt like agony, being so tightly squashed in one room where they didn't feel at home at all. Cathy and I would adjust to this new lifestyle, we _had_ adjusted. The twins were too small to realise what was going on, all they knew was that we were stuffed into this small space and had to make do with what they had until Momma could tell them otherwise. Oh, for how trusting they were in us. Soon, maybe a few more days, maybe a few more weeks, or even months... we'd be outside, laughing and playing and forgotten all about this attic. We wouldn't even remember our desires then, we'd be enjoying life too much. _Momma, come today or tomorrow, we want the Grandfather to open his arms wide so we can run and launch ourselves in them; we want our Grandfather to love and know us and we want to be able to live. But Momma, I will wait. For as long as you need us to. I love you that much. I'd keep the four of us occupied and safe. I promise you that. Daddy would be proud._

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><p><em>AN: This chapter was more of a thought provoking one, just a little insight on what Chris might have been thinking during the early days of their imprisoment. I was inspired after reading a lot of other Chris fics that delved __deeper into his mind. I've always thought of him as a tortured soul who bottled things up to try and be positive and make do with what he had. Let me know your thoughts as always :)_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: I know, I know it's been so long since an update. Over two months but I'm not gonna play Corrine and feed you with a bunch of excuses. The best I can say is that my personal life has taken a drastic turn or two which has prevented an update in this story for quite some time—sometimes I'd feel like updating and something would come up or inspiration just wouldn't strike. I'd be sitting with my laptop, drumming my fingers while staring at the screen, trying to crawl back into Christopher's mind. But, I am up pretty early this morning and writers block kind of wore off, I'm back. Enjoy this chapter. :)_

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><p>I wasn't counting. God knows, Cathy was instead. But she didn't have to <em>know<em> I was pleading with my eyes, hoping just hoping some food would arrive today. Cathy paced the floor anxiously, her hands nervously working, almost like Momma. Although, Momma hadn't visited in months! It was becoming more and more hard to love her each day—God knows I didn't stop loving her, not one bit but, she was making it awfully difficult for us to have faith in her. A shred of hope diminishing and lessening with each passing day that our stomachs grumbled. How long had it been since my lips had worked together, chewing, biting, swallowing. Taking care of myself? But this wasn't just about me. I could survive. I was aching for nourishment, needing some sort of comfort but seeing the twins, _my _twins cry and whine for food, had scarred me. I kept trying to tell them that the Grandmother was just a little later with bringing up our food but they'd drift off later on, so hungry, so tired. So lost. Tears welled in my eyes each night. There was so much damn pressure, trying to play the optimistic one, the one that the twins would run to and moan for food, plead for food. My heart filled with pain and sympathy with the look of disappointment strewn across their faces as I dismissed them gently. _Just a little longer._

Cathy was becoming more and more frustrated. I could see the way she was suffering, wanting to hurt Momma—I was sure that she hated her by now, but I also tried to tell myself countless times that she was just hungry. Just like we all were. The Grandmother hadn't even brought us towels, lines, or toothpaste or soap. There wasn't anything to be had for our own well being; what had we done to deserve it? Then the memory flashed before my eyes; Cathy's naked body, her observing glances at herself, the way her hands explored and cradled her most private parts... I shook my head in disgust, it sent trembles and excitement toward my groin, seeing her in her own praise of her beautiful body. I'd forget she was my sister, moments like those, I wish I could be the one to explore _for_ her. To gaze upon her naked body, to claim her as my own... I slammed my fist against a wall in the attic as these thoughts raced through my mind. I was so damn frustrated! Sick of trying to stay strong for the twins and Cathy. I loved them but I also wanted a life! I wanted to make the most out of my teenage years while I could and here we were, stuck up inside a dim attic all day every day with nothing to do and no one to look at but each other! Rationing, I let the twins have my cheese and crackers. They needed it more and ironically, just eating made me sick to my stomach. I couldn't let this destroy me, to weaken me, to depress me. I had to stay strong for the rest of us. I had to make them believe that the Grandmother would give up her evil act and bring us our picnic basket in the next morning, with fresh bathroom appliances, even if there was a strong doubt in the pit of my soul, knowing just how cruel she was... and how worse she could be.

We barely talked about it. We mostly slept, in and out, see, when you're starving, everything else becomes small, everything centres around exhaustion. We needed energy, fibre, we needed our stomachs full to go on. But there was nothing! I could see how thin the twins were becoming and pale; they didn't even cry or scream any more. They would stare dully into space, murmuring that they wanted food robotically. They had had nothing for four whole days, nothing to make their voices pipe up, I was so angry! What did they do to deserve this?! How could that evil witch do this to us?

Then there was Cathy, my wife. I'd find her laying on her bed beside Carrie, her eyes glued to the ceiling, her chest would heave with her natural breathing, her glassy eyes making me ball my fists and hold more resentment to Momma. Did she even wonder if we were okay? Did she know we had no food? Was she letting this happen? But this was Momma, I know she'd care if the Grandmother was starving us, order her to send us food straight away and maybe even hurry up, apologising and stroking our hair, telling us how much she loved us and the Grandfather was soon to die. _Lies, lies, lies. Empty promises. Damn you to Hell Corrine Foxworth! Did you care when Cathy had tar put in her hair, did you care before when you left us without word for a month? Did you care when Bart Winslow was whispering sweet nothings into your ear? _For someone who used to be so hopeful, cheerful, always looking on the bright side, bitterness and anger and torment was all I knew in these lifeless few days. I just wasn't sure if I stopped being my usual self even before.

My logical side took over. Another day passed, I had taken my pocket knife and raised it to my wrist, without even discussing it; I slashed at my wrist, blood leaking through as I quickly gave it to Cory, moving it against his mouth. I held him like a dear sweet baby as he hungrily accepted, his eyes now dull and grey as his warm tongue flickered across my skin. Giving my children some sort of nourishment made me feel better. For I could go on another day or two without food, but for them, they needed everything they could get straight away. I then moved onto Carrie, like her twin, she didn't kick up a fuss, she weakly lapped up the free blood as she washed it down before curling up next to Cory, again drifting off to sleep. I wondered how many times I'd have to do this. From the corner of my eye, I felt Cathy watching me. She looked disgusted and yet impressed—I could laugh, even feel giddy that she thought so, but where was the laughter? _Your turn, my beautiful ballerina Doll._ Moving to the edge of the bed, I again raised the knife to my wrist before she hurled it out of my hands swiftly.

_Oh Cathy, you too need nourishment._ Why couldn't she see I'd do anything for her. I'd rather have scars on my wrist than let my wife and children endure more sufferable days without food. Although, I quickly washed it away with alcohol, tending to my wounds, feeling cheated. A strange feeling of satisfaction swept over me, if I fed her, we would've locked eyes, an intimate moment even though it was probably the most horrible thing in the world, I didn't care, I wouldn't care. _I didn't want Cathy to be scared of me, please not my beautiful porcelain Catherine Doll, I only want to help..._

"What will we do Chris if she never comes back?" Cathy croaked, it was the first time we had properly communicated within the past few days. "She will let us starve to death." It was then I realised that I couldn't agree, I couldn't let Cathy get it into her head that she'd die this way, that we'd never eat again. She looked away, thinking, always thinking; I knew she was thinking about our rations, we barely had enough anymore, the milk had gone off, everything was finished...

"She won't let us starve to death." I assured her, laying next to her, my arms securely tightened around her. I could feel her bones, her ribcage, her frail body in my arms. It made me feel sick, she couldn't die. No, not my Cathy. She had to be Ballerina first. We hadn't even made love yet, was that so sinful? Why was I desiring her so much?

"We'd be idiots and spineless , to allow her to do that to us. Tomorrow, if she doesn't show up with food and our mother doesn't show up, we'll use our sheet-ladder to reach the ground."

Her head fell to my chest, sending a protective thrill through me, having her this close to me felt better than any food, and if we starved to death, I'd lay like this with our twins, like the family we were forced into. I'd tell her I loved her, that she was everything I thought about, that she wasn't my sister, but my forbidden love. My hopeless dream. My heart thumped hard as I thought about it, wondering if she felt it too.

Again, Cathy questioned me, I promised her the Grandmother wouldn't be so careless to let us go another day without food. That we'd survive, just like we always had.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: So, I've decided that this will be the final chapter; the reason being that I'm not continuing and expanding the story is because I'm so damn busy. My absence from writing has proven how much its taken a back seat since I first published it. My career, my boyfriend, my family, just a bunch of social gatherings have taken up my life and it's hard to juggle that all and still find time or feel driven to write. Doesn't make me love this any less because here I am, giving you a conclusion. Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck by me and read and reviewed this story, I honestly appreciate it from the bottom of my heart. Writing is my niche and knowing it's always going to be here and you're all going to be here comforts me. Even if there's a massive span of time where I don't update as often. I know it's a sin but as you get older, there are many more priorities and now I'm rambling! So here goes._

On the bus now. Away from there. Away from the sin, away from the cruel grandmother, away from our betrayal with Momma! Forever! In a whirl, we had escaped Foxworth Hall, managed to be remain unseen and now we were on the bus, journeying to Florida, far far away where the three of us could remain in peace. It should have been four. As I looked at how weak Carrie was, I was in relief that Cory hadn't been the same and had escaped the pain that he was too young for. The grief I felt, the utter loss and bitterness... something I never thought in a million years that I would possess.

Staring out the window, Carrie sat in between Cathy and I, her little cherub face no longer bright or smiling, but weak, dull, uncharacteristic. Her soul had been ripped from her, her childlike innocence destroyed. My knuckles turned white as I bit my lip, wanting to viscously attack those who had done that to her. To us.

Being so near her, my sister, no longer that twelve year old girl who had discussed it'd be like when we arrived, the twelve year old sister who I had teased for always picking on Momma. She was gone. Now replaced with a stunningly beautiful young woman, even more beautiful than before. Developed, but slender, weakly damaged; hurt. She caught my gaze and for a fleeting moment I thought I had caught her own reflection of my thoughts. _I need to kiss you. Need to touch you. I'm going to protect you both with my entire life; I'm going to never let any harm come to you again._

One was my child, the other, my wife. And nothing in this world could change that. No matter if any lover came into our lives, we shared pain, shared a past no one must ever know. For, it was our secret and how could anyone possibly understand?!

As the bus moved further and further along, we watched the blue ridged Virginian Mountains—we were getting closer and closer away. Neither one of us could sit still, not relax until we saw a sign that we had passed out of the area. Foxworth Hall was buried in our minds, always would be, our own mother poisoning us! Disowning us, desiring us to rot! That wasn't Momma and, I felt sickened by the hope I had left that she had done it as a plan to get us out. When I caught Cathy's eye again, I could see her own torment, the anger behind those darkened cerulean blue eyes, I knew she held more resentment and ultimately hatred for her. I couldn't change that. Carrie, poor sweet Carrie who was so trusting in us now, with no long lasting memory of Momma who had abandoned us all.

The bus chugged along the road, I sat back and relaxed as I saw those mountains distance themselves until they were a tiny speck in hindsight. And as the bitterly nervosa calmed down, I contemplated the money I had in my pocket and wondered what the Hell we were going to do next. Just us three, the Dollanganger siblings. With one Doll dead, and the other three, surviving. Death around the corner for them. Hope, still relevant.

_**The End...**_


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